The Moments We Remember
by nothingbutgoneness
Summary: A few snapshots of significant moments in Klaine's future together. Quite fluffy. All the chapters are T except chapter three, which is M.  For an explanation of why this story is remaining T, read the A/N at the bottom of chapter three.  Read the A/N  at the bottom of chapter one for more info.
1. The Proposal

**The Proposal**

The overhead lights blinked thrice, signaling the end of intermission. The mass of extremely well-dressed socialites slowly migrated from the lobby, the bathrooms, and the sidewalks into the theatre. They buzzed with excitement; after an explosive, side-splitting first act, wild speculations concerning the second blazed through the crowds.

In another world, far into the inner depths of the building, Kurt Hummel kissed his boyfriend goodbye. He backed Blaine Anderson, Broadway superstar, into the closed door of his dressing room, trying not to muss the shorter man's costume. This was proving to be quite difficult, considering the costume was a rather well-fitting three-piece suit that fell on his hips perfectly. Kurt desired nothing more than to remove it piece by piece.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured against the other man's lips. "Kurt, I have to go back out, the second act's about to start."

Tracing his tongue along Blaine's jaw line, Kurt groaned. "You're right." He pulled back. "You have to go before things get...awkward." He blushed.

Chuckling softly, Blaine smartened himself up. "Yeah, going onstage with certain...physical reactions would most definitely catch Ryan's attention." The thought of the director's anger aimed toward himself made Blaine cringe.

"I still can't believe you're on _Broadway_, Blaine." Kurt slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you."

"You're just jealous that I got here first." Blaine laughed when Kurt stuck his tongue out at him.

Kurt placed his hand on the doorknob. "You just wait, Mr. Anderson. One day I'll star in my own Broadway musical, and I'll be so amazing that I'll become famous and everyone will forget about that _has-been _Blaine Anderson."

Now Blaine let out a bark of laughter. "I don't doubt it." He pecked Kurt's lips chastely with his own. "Okay, you have to go back to your seat, and I have to get behind the curtain before Ryan flays me alive."

Right on cue, a loud banging on the door caused the two men to leap backward. "Anderson! Get your ass out here, now! I told you, no quickies with your boyfriend!" Blaine and Kurt flushed deep red. They emerged from the dressing room to see the director's back marching away.

Kurt kissed Blaine one last time. "Break a leg, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too." Blaine watched his boyfriend disappear into the darkness of the hall. Then he turned to take his place on the stage.

From his place in the audience, Kurt could see his boyfriend hamming it up expertly. His voice resonated beautifully throughout the theatre, and he completely enraptured the spectators. Blaine's character, a skirt-chasing businessman forced to pretend to be gay in order to win over a potential client, had been written some of the wittiest, sharpest lines in comedy's history. Of course, Blaine's acting was so superb that Kurt didn't feel the slightest inkling of jealousy when he shared a particularly passionate kiss with another male actor on stage.

As Kurt watched in awe, he fiddled with his right ring finger. It felt empty, as the ring he normally wore there went missing that morning. He smiled wistfully as he remembered the day he received the piece of jewelry.

_Hundreds of square black caps fell to the ground, the horde of teenagers chattering excitedly as they fetched the garments and replaced them upon their heads. They had just graduated from William McKinley High School. They were never going back. For all, it was a bittersweet realization._

"_I can't believe we're saying goodbye to this place," Kurt sighed, winding his fingers through his boyfriend's._

"_Aw," Blaine cooed. "You're so sentimental sometimes. I find it quite adorable."_

_Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on. I mean, it's really just Glee Club that I'll miss. Can you imagine life without the daily love nonagon that is our friends' lives? I mean, if Rachel isn't going to storm out of every room, then who is? If Puck isn't going to make out with all of Finn's girlfriends, then who is? If Brittany isn't going to blurt random statements that both confuse me and make sense at the same time, _then who is_?"_

_Placing a soft kiss upon Kurt's porcelain cheek, Blaine interrupted the other boy's rambling. "They're not going away forever. We still have all summer to say goodbye. And Rachel's coming to New York with us. If it makes you feel better, we can piss her off every day, just so you can see her slam a door when she storms out." That brought a smile to Kurt's face. "There we go. Now, if you'll come with me, I'd like to give you your graduation present before we head back to my place for the Glee party." Not allowing Kurt to respond, Blaine dragged him by the hand out of the auditorium crammed with student, parents, and faculty members and into the empty choir room._

"_Blaine, what the Gaga is—_what are you doing_?" Kurt gasped as he watched Blaine kneel onto one knee._

"_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel." The shorter boy pulled a small velvet box from the pocket of his dress slacks. "I should have given you this a long time ago, because it's been applicable to our relationship for quite a while—"_

"_Blaine Anderson I _swear _to you that if you're doing what I think you're doing—"_

"_So you're just going to have to excuse my lateness. I love you more than anyone else in the world, Kurt—more than life itself. I know for a one-hundred-percent fact that I'm going to die in love with you, whether that's tomorrow or ninety years from now. And I want to prove that to you." Blaine lifted the lid of the tiny box open._

"_Oh no—" Kurt stopped short when he saw the box's contents. Instead of a band or a ring with a stone, a different piece of jewelry gleamed from within the folds of velvet. The ring was silver, and it featured a pair of hands clutching a heart, which was surmounted by a crown. Kurt recognized the design—it was traditional in style, not at all modern—but it wasn't even close to what he expected. His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Blaine, what—"_

"_It's a claddagh ring," the kneeling boy explained. "It's an Irish tradition. In the olden times, people were too poor to buy real wedding rings, so they used these instead. The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty, and the heart...There's a specific way you have to wear it, too."_

"_Oh?" Kurt was thoroughly baffled. What exactly was Blaine up to?_

_Blaine stood up and moved close to Kurt, their bodies nearly flush with each other. "When you're in a committed relationship, you wear it on your right hand, with the heart pointing toward you. It means your heart's taken, and that you won't give it away." Blaine removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto Kurt's right third finger, pointing the heart toward the taller boy's wrist. Then he wound his own right fingers through Kurt's, showing off his matching claddagh ring. The heart on his ring, too, faced his body. "We belong to each other," he whispered._

_When Blaine pressed a deep, passionate kiss to his lips, Kurt cried freely. The two embraced each other, reveling in the fact that they were equal, that they were together, and that they were in love._

That morning, Kurt's claddagh ring disappeared. He only removed it for a few minutes a day, when he was moisturizing his face. He had slid it off and set it upon the counter in the small bathroom of their one-bedroom New York apartment. When he finished his routine, it was gone. He tossed the room, upending beauty products and rifling through drawers, all to no avail. He came to the sickening conclusion that the ring had been knocked down the drain of the sink while he was working. He hadn't told Blaine yet, because he was ashamed of losing the symbol of their undying love for each other. So he sat in the dark theatre, gazing in amazement up at his unfairly talented boyfriend, tugging lightly at his third finger, wishing desperately that he could spin the ring that had rested there for years.

When the final group number wrapped at the end, the audience leapt to its feet, hands crashing together in a deafening roar. Blaine appeared on the empty stage to take the first bow. His costars each took their bows, and then the entire cast joined them to take the concluding bow together. Kurt's glasz eyes brimmed over with tears; he had never felt so excited, so proud, so hopeful, so _in love _in his entire life. The cast (and Ryan, whom Blaine had dragged from the wing into view) grinned in front of everyone as the entire theatre applauded until every single person's hands were red.

Instead of the curtain dropping to shield the cast from view, the supporting actors disappeared into the right and left wings, leaving only Blaine and his two costars, a beautiful young woman with flowing brown locks and a strapping man with sandy blonde hair, in the spotlight. Suddenly, the orchestra in the pit began to play something, which struck everyone as odd, since the musical was quite clearly over. After a few moments, Blaine began to sing.

_Say,_

_Wasn't that a funny day?_

_Gee, you had a funny way,_

_A way about you,_

_A kind of glow,_

_A something new._

_Sure,_

_I'll admit that I'm the same:_

_Another sucker for a game_

_Kids like to play,_

_And the rules_

_We like to use._

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel for you?_

Confused, the audience settled into its seats, curious as to where this was going. Kurt blushed slightly, for Blaine gazed deeply into his eyes as he sang. When Blaine reached the end of the chorus, the music morphed into a new tune. Blaine and his costars, who were offering him some stellar background vocals, followed the transition flawlessly.

_Before you met me,_

_I was alright,_

_But things were kind of heavy._

_You brought me to life._

_Now every February,_

_You'll be my Valentine,_

_Valentine._

_Let's go all_

_The way tonight,_

_No regrets,_

_Just love._

_We can dance_

_Until we die._

_You and I_

_Will be young forever._

_You make me _

_Feel like I'm living a _

_Teenage dream._

_The way you turn me on—_

_I can't sleep._

_Let's run away and_

_Don't ever look back._

_Don't ever look back._

_My heart stops_

_When you look at me._

_Just one touch,_

_And, baby, I believe_

_This is real,_

_So take a chance_

_And don't ever look back._

_Don't ever look back._

The three onstage danced to this song, and everyone in the theatre loved it. Kurt now burned bright scarlet as he remember the first time Blaine sang this song; he'd known right then and there that he was forever in love with the dapper soloist.

The music flowed into another tune once more, and the actors' dancing followed the new beat.

_It's not unusual to be loved by anyone._

_It's not unusual to have fun with anyone._

_But when I see you hanging about with anyone,_

_It's not unusual to see me cry._

_I wanna die._

_It's not unusual to be mad at anyone_

_It's not unusual to be sad with anyone._

_But if I ever find that you've changed at any time,_

_It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you!_

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!_

A new melody began as this one faded. As he sang, Blaine began to slowly move off stage, down the steps, and into the audience.

_You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs,_

_But I look around me and see it isn't so._

_Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs,_

_And what's wrong with that?_

_I'd like to know,_

'_Cause here I go again._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_Love doesn't come in a minute._

_Sometimes it doesn't come at all._

_I only know that when I'm in it_

_It isn't silly,_

_No, it isn't silly,_

_It isn't silly at all._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

Blaine reached the end of an aisle, every eye in the audience trained on his movements. The entire theatre, save the orchestra, was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Somewhere along the way Blaine had been given a microphone, so his beautiful voice rang out for everyone to hear. He climbed up the subtle incline toward the middle of the section, where a tomato-red Kurt sat on the aisle, trying desperately to calm his frantic heart.

_Oh, I've got arms and you've got legs._

_Together we've made some mistakes,_

_But, hey, we're doing well._

_And I've got reason to believe_

_In the power of you and me _

_To break this spell._

_And now, how_

_We like to say that we're in love._

_Doesn't it_

_Seem like that should be enough?_

_But_

_The world will roll their eyes_

_But I still think,_

_Well, I still think that we're in love._

At this last word, Blaine stopped in front of Kurt, extending a hand out toward him. Kurt shook his head violently, never more nervous in his entire life. Something nudged his left arm. He turned and saw a middle-aged woman with mousy hair and a kind face nodding encouragingly at him, urging him to stand. Kurt looked back at Blaine, and the expression he saw upon his face melted his heart instantaneously. Never had so much joy danced in those hazel eyes, and never had that skin glowed with such bright fervor. Resigned, Kurt placed his hand in Blaine's and stood. When he came into view for the rest of the audience (for the light technicians had followed Blaine from the stage with a soft spotlight), a quick murmur rippled through the crowd, but everyone quickly fell silent again as Blaine resumed his singing with a new selection.

_I walked across_

_An empty land._

_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand._

_I felt the earth_

_Beneath my feet,_

_Sat by the river_

_And it made me complete._

_Oh, simple thing,_

_Where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on._

_So tell me when_

_You're gonna let me in._

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin._

Blaine stared endlessly into Kurt's emotional eyes, allowing the rest of the world to fall away.

_So if you have a minute why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything,_

_So why don't we go?_

_So why don't we go?_

_And if you have a minute why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything._

_So why don't we go_

_Somewhere only we know,_

_Somewhere only we know._

When the song changed once more, Blaine began to lead Kurt down the aisle toward the stage, still keeping the deep eye contact that locked them in their own world.

_I've seen you singing on that stage_

_Looking like an angel,_

_And all I do is pray_

_That maybe_

_One day you'll hear my song_

_And understand_

_That all along_

_There's something more_

_That I'm trying to say..._

As they walked together, the orchestra melted into a new song.

_Well, I still have trouble._

_I trip and stumble_

_Trying to make sense of things sometimes._

_I look for reasons,_

_But I don't need 'em._

_All I need is to look in your eyes,_

_And I realize,_

_That baby I'm not alone,_

'_Cause you're here with me,_

_And nothing's ever gonna take us down,_

'_Cause nothing can_

_Keep me from loving you,_

_And you know it's true._

_It don't matter what'll come to be._

_Our love it all we need_

_To make it through._

The tune morphed a final time as the pair climbed the steps back up onto the stage. Every eye in the theatre was trained on them, and Kurt's own eyes were freely flowing with tears. The couple stopped in the middle of the stage. Blaine's costars had disappeared at some point, so now the shorter man sung alone.

_I've finally made it._

_I've hoped and I've waited,_

_And for the first time in my life,_

_I don't feel so alone._

_My heart starts to heal_

_To know this is real._

_This is how it must feel_

_To have a_

_Home!_

As he belted the last note, Blaine dropped to one knee. Kurt's hands flew to cover his mouth, and his entire body shook. When the music came to a dramatic end, the audience leapt to its feet in tumultuous applause. While he waited for everyone to quiet down, Blaine pulled a tiny box from the pocket of his coat. His eyes never left Kurt's, and the two communicated silently, as they so often did quite expertly.

_What are you _doing_, Blaine Anderson?_

_What I've been dying to do for years._

_And you felt the need to do it in front of thousands of strangers because...?_

_I refuse to hide my love for you. I want the entire world to hear this._

When the onlookers finally retook their seats, Blaine began to speak in a calm, confident tone. "Kurt Hummel, we've been together for eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days—and during those eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days, I have come to the easy conclusion that I am going to spend the rest of my life with you. It's not an option anymore, not really, not for us. I'm not sure it ever was. Call it fate, call it soulmates, call it divine prophecy, call it predestination—call it dumb luck that it was me you stopped on that stairway at Dalton. I don't care. All I know is that in these past eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days, we've ridden on the highest of highs and drowned in the lowest of lows. We've faced hatred and slander and violence and arguments and doubt—but we made it through. I never truly knew what love meant before you sauntered into my life and opened my woefully blind eyes. I've been alone, surrounded by darkness...but you took me by the hand and led me into the light, and my world is so beautiful because of it.

"So now I want to take the next step. I could be content to stay here in this comfortable, perfect point in our relationship, but we're so much more than that now. It's time we really, truly belonged to one another, in a permanent, irrevocable, forever way. Kurt Hummel..." Blaine lifted the lid of the box in his hand. "Will you marry me?"

Kurt gasped. Inside the box lay his claddagh ring. He was going to _kill _Blaine for stealing his ring and making him believe all day that he'd lost it. He noticed now that Blaine wore his ring on his left ring finger, the heart pointing away from his body. In any other situation, this gesture would have seemed rather presumptuous and cocky, but Kurt knew his answer before the question was even asked—hell, Kurt knew his answer before they were even _dating. _

Too overcome with tears and emotion to speak, Kurt could only nod vigorously in reply. The audience exploded again as Blaine slid the ring onto Kurt's left hand in the same fashion that he wore his. Then the Broadway star stood and wrapped his arms around his fiancé, kissing him deeply for a long moment. Then they simply held each other, Kurt bawling into Blaine's suit, and Blaine whispering, "This is the start of our forever...I love you..." in his ear.

* * *

><p>Hey guys! This is my second FanFic EVA! My first is "A Very Klaine Summer," and I highly suggest you check that out. (To those of you who are AVKS readers, don't worry; I'm still working feverishly on that story as well!) "The Moments We Remember" is a four- (or possibly five-) shot chronically milestones in Blurt's future. (If you read AVKS or are an avid Darren Criss fan, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.) While right now this story is rated T, the possibility is great that this will change to M at a later date. If you don't read M, that's totally fine; you can skip over chapter three (the only...blue chapter of the Fic) and not miss anything, for these chapters are stand-alones.<p>

Review! I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. We can take this relationship slow. We don't have to rush into anything-I know a review is a big commitment, and I don't want you to say something you might regret later. But if you really, truly feel up to it, I would love accept a review from you.

Love you guys!


	2. The Wedding

**The Wedding (Part One)**

"Mercedes, hand me that cummerbund."

"I can't do this."

"Don't forget that his shoes are with Puck."

"I can't do this."

"I know. How a guy like Noah became so good at shining shoes, I have no idea."

"I can't do this."

"I still think he just buys Corfam shoes. They're too shiny to be real leather."

"I can't do this."

"Wait, which bowtie are we going with again?"

"I can't do this."

"The pink one."

"I can't do this."

"No, I thought Blaine wanted the pink one."

"I can't do this."

"Oh, duh, you're right. His cummerbund is yellow. Why do I always forget this?"

"I can't do this."

"Maybe it's the bachelor party last night. I still can't look at bright lights—I have no idea how I'm going to stand under a skylight for the next hour."

"I can't do this."

"How many times do you think he's going to say that?"

"I can't do this."

"I don't know. He was so thrilled last night—now he just looks green."

"I can't do this."

"WHITE BOY SHUT UP!"

Kurt looked up from his yellow-sock-clad feet. "Huh?"

Cutting Mercedes off before she could yell sense into the shaking groom, Rachel eased Kurt off of the dressing dais and onto a nearby brown leather couch. "Okay, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this."

Mercedes bit back a scathing retort. "Do what, boo? You've only been dreaming of this day since you were four."

"I know!" Kurt buried his face in his hands with a groan. "I mean, what if something goes horribly wrong? What if I trip walking down the stairs? What if the lights go out, or a tornado touches down? What if someone stands up in protest? What if Blaine—?" He stopped short.

"What if Blaine what?" Rachel wrapped an arm around Kurt's trembling shoulder, careful not to muss his sharply-ironed dress shirt.

Kurt's answer came in a whisper. "What if he realizes that he doesn't want to marry me?"

"Oh, boo!" Mercedes collapsed in front of Kurt, thankfully not in her dress yet, and grabbed both of his hands in her own. "That is crazy. Blaine _adores _you. He practically worships the ground you walk on. When he told Rachel, Finn, and I how he wanted to propose to you, we could barely understand him, he was talking so fast. He went on and on and _on _about crazy stuff like how he wants to wake up next to you every day for the rest of his life and how every time you speak his heart stops beating and the kind of fluffy crap that makes Santana want to barf."

"I talked to him this morning, Kurt," Rachel continued Mercedes's thought. "He was jumping on furniture and talking a mile a minute—I think he was channeling Tom Cruise."

"No, he always jumps on the furniture here," Kurt mumbled. "It's like his thing."

"So what's the problem, sweetie?" Mercedes lifted a hand and forced Kurt to look her in the eye. "He's not even close to having second thoughts. Why are you?"

"What if we don't make it?"

Two pairs of arms engulfed Kurt, and two voices babbled in his ear.

"Baby, are you crazy?"

"You will _totally _make it!"

"You two are perfect!"

"_Beyond _perfect!"

"I know you can't see it, because you're in it, but your relationship is more real—"

"It's more mature than mine and Finn's, that's for sure."

"I mean, you two have _never _been typical, in any way."

"You are going to last forever and ever and have dozens of adorable babies and a million grandbabies."

"And I _will _be their godmomma."

"You two are beautiful—"

"—and you will be together forever."

Kurt sniffled. "You're right, girls. I'm being silly. Oh God!" He jumped up, knocking Rachel and Mercedes over. "My eyes must look a mess! How could you let me carry on like that? I need to fix this!"

The two women rolled their eyes at each other as their diva best friend rushed to the mirror. Just then, the door to the junior commons creaked open. "How's everything going in there?"

Rachel smiled up at Finn. "We're good. A little nervous, but Mercedes and I got it under control."

"I'm not nervous!" Kurt insisted shrilly.

Finn walked up behind his brother and hugged him tightly. "I'm so happy for you, bro. For the both of you. I know you're going to be great together."

"FINN! CREASES!"

"Right, sorry!" The giant of a man released Kurt, who immediately started patting himself down. Finn grabbed his hand and slipped the claddagh ring off of it with a grin. Kurt and Finn, the latter the former's best man, matched in most respects: simple black tuxes, white dress shirts, black dress shoes (shined to perfection thanks to Puck, oddly enough), yellow socks, and yellow belt buckles. The only differences were Kurt's yellow bowtie to Finn's yellow skinny tie, Kurt's yellow rose boutonnière to Finn's yellow pocket square, and Finn's lack of a cummerbund. The girls slid their matching canary knee-length dresses over their slips. They then tucked one pink carnation each in their curls and adorned each wrist with one thin pink band. Their pink heels completed the ensemble.

"You ready?" Mercedes asked when all were dressed.

Kurt nodded shakily. "Let's do this thing."

* * *

><p>"Blaine, get your ass down here."<p>

"Can you imagine how amazing he's going to look? I'm going to be grinning like a _fool_! Not that I mind—I _am _a fool."

"I've noticed. Now get off the couch and get dressed."

"I'm so glad our two musical families are singing together for this."

"Yes, it's a lovey-dovey melding of worlds. _Will you get off the table already_?"

"I took a look at the decorations—Kurt's so amazing at this!"

"If you don't quit this you'll be late to your own wedding."

"Do you think he's nervous? I wish I could see him."

"So help me God, Hobbit, I will yank you down if I have to."

"Now I'm getting nervous. What if I screw up or say something wrong or forget my _vows_? Kurt'll never forgive me!"

"If I have to hurt you, Kurt will kill me, but it will be _worth it_."

"Oh man, what if I pass out?"

"I'm going to kill him. I _will _kill him."

"Oh my God, I'm going to be late!"

"You will be the death of me, Hobbit!"

Blaine hopped lithely off of the back of the couch in the senior commons. "How long do I have?"

Cooper rolled his eyes. "Just over an hour. Now get over here and get dressed." The groom's older brother tried to sound stern, but there was a smile in his voice. He was his little brother's best man at his _wedding_. He knew from the first phone call that Blaine was going to fall in love with Kurt, and from the first meeting with the stylish kid that he was never going to fall out of it. He remembered Blaine calling to tell him that he was going to propose to his boyfriend of eight years.

"_Hey, B!"_

"_I'm going to do it."_

"_...That's...nice...what?"_

"_I'm going to propose to him."_

"_Oh my God! That's great, Blainers! I'm really, really happy for you."_

"_I already talked to Burt, asked his permission and whatnot. He said—oh my God, I'm shaking—he said that his answer was yes the day that I came to the garage and told him to talk to Kurt about sex. We weren't even _dating_ then!"_

"_You always did make a hell of an impression, kid."_

"_Well, the first impression I ever got to make on him was hungover in his son's bed, so I'm not sure how that would be true."_

"_Eh, semantics."_

"_So, I'm going to do it after my first show."_

"_Whew..."_

"What_?" _

"_That's gutsy."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_I mean, getting up there, in front of everyone, putting Kurt on the spot, putting _yourself_ on the spot..."_

"_Oh my God, you're right. You're _right_. I can't—I mean—what if he says_ no_—or—or what if he _freezes_, and I'm left kneeling there like a fool—God, Coop, what if he says no? I don't think I can handle that! Oh my God, I can't do this—no, I take it all back, I'm not going to propose—"_

"_Damn, Hobbit, chill out. I'm just messing with you. Kurt's going to _love_ it. It's just the right balance of cheesy and romantic. It's you. It's the two of you. He'll love it, and he'll say yes. Trust me."_

"_...You think?"_

"_Blaine, he'd've said yes if you asked him on that damn staircase the day you met."_

"_...Thanks, Coop."_

"_Any time, my brother."_

Smiling, Cooper quickly gelled down Blaine's riot of curls, giving up on trying to make the younger man stand still. He then helped his brother into his tuxedo, straightening his pink bowtie and cummberbund, pinning his pink rose boutonnière to his lapel, and trying not laugh at his matching pink socks.

Blaine just finished centering his pink belt buckle when the door to the senior commons opened. "Hey, Blainers!"

Blaine turned around. "Wes! David! So glad you guys could make it!" The groom quickly embraced his best friends, laughing out of the pure joy of the moment. The two ex-Warblers wore tuxedos not dissimilar from the grooms', but with no cummerbunds, pink pocket squares and belt buckles, and yellow skinny ties and socks. Cooper, on the other hand, matched Finn, save of all his colored accents were pink like Blaine's instead of yellow like Kurt's.

Blaine bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "Are you guys ready to watch me get married?"

The three other men exchanged a knowing glance. "Only for the past eight years or so."

* * *

><p>"Shut up, Frankenteen."<p>

"I'm twenty-seven, Santana. I'm not a teenager anymore."

"And yet you keep growing. How do you not have your own zip code yet?"

"Lay off, Satan."

"Oh hey, Hobbit. It seems that you're actually shrinking. It makes sense—I mean, you were already dressing like an octogenarian in our sophomore year. I'll tread carefully; don't want my stiletto to crush the remnants of your prehistoric beak."

"You haven't changed at all."

"Thank you. Now, can we get this show on the road? I hear there's lesbian porn on pay-per-view."

"Come on, we're here for my brother's wedding. Can we just be civil?"

"Fine. Where do I need to stand?"

"Kurt wants the New Directions and the Warblers to meet next to the staircase."

"Why?"

"They're getting married on the steps."

"Why?"

"Because that's where they met."

"And you might be...?"

"Thad Harwood, my lovely lady."

"Lesbian."

"Oh."

"FINN!"

Finn spun around and spotted his mother standing at the top of the marble staircase, elegantly dressed in a bright pink gown. She motioned wildly for him to pay attention. He followed her pointing finger down the hall and realized she was telling him that the wedding was about to start. He nodded once and ushered all the New Directions singers and Warblers to the space next to the staircase. The girls were all dressed to match Rachel and Mercedes, and the boys matched Wes and David. The only singers who stood apart were Finn, Kurt's best man, and Puck, the officiator. Finn and Cooper waited on the second step up from the bottom, the former against the rail, the latter against the wall, and Puck waited on the ground in front of the bottom stair. Along one side of the stairwell stood a small gathering of family and friends: Kurt's maternal aunt, the Shuesters, Sue Sylvester, Blaine's costars, Kurt's design partner. When Kurt was little, he had dreamed of the big wedding with more guests than he could count, but when it came down to reality, neither groom needed anyone else but this tiny gathering of those closest to them.

A nod from Carole led to a nod from Finn, and Brad the piano man, as stoic as ever, struck up a tune on the baby grand tucked away under the top landing. With a smile, Rory stepped forward to sing.

_There's a calm surrender  
>To the rush of day<br>When the heat of the rolling world  
>Can be turned away.<br>An enchanted moment  
>And it sees me through,<br>It's enough for this restless warrior  
>Just to be with you.<em>

The music swelled, and the New Directions and the Warblers, former rivals, joined as one to sing behind the Irish man.

_And can you feel the love tonight?  
>It is where we are.<br>It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
>That we got this far.<br>And can you feel the love tonight,  
>How it's laid to rest?<br>It's enough to make kings and vagabonds  
>Believe the very best.<em>

At the end of the first chorus, Blaine appeared at the top of the staircase, his arm looped through Carole's. The two descended the steps slowly as Rory continued crooning smoothly, the normal piano interlude shortened slightly.

_There's a time for everyone,  
>If they only learn<br>That the twisting kaleidoscope  
>Moves us all in turn.<br>There's a rhyme and reason  
>To the wild outdoors<br>When the heart of this star-crossed voyager  
>Beats in time with yours.<em>

Blaine and Carole reached the bottom step just before the verse finished. The groom kissed his soon-to-be mother-in-law on the cheek, and the woman retreated up two steps, standing just above Cooper, back to the wall. As the chorus started once more, Kurt approached the top of the stairs, arm-in-arm with his father, who was dressed identically to his stepson. Blaine's breath caught in his throat as the beautiful man walked down, his glasz eyes already shimmering with tears.

_And can you feel the love tonight?  
>It is where we are.<br>It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
>That we got this far.<br>And can you feel the love tonight,  
>How it's laid to rest?<br>It's enough to make kings and vagabonds  
>Believe the very best.<em>

The two choirs died out at the end of the chorus, just as Kurt and Burt finished climbing down the stairs. Burt kissed his son's cheek and moved to stand one step above Finn, across from Carole. Blaine and Kurt immediately locked eyes, eyes unwavering from the each other. Rory sung the last line with a powerful warble. "It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best." Brad tapped out the last few notes, and the song ended. Not a dry eye was to be had in the hall.

Puck—who had shaved off his "dead raccoon" at Kurt's insistence—smiled up at the guests. "Welcome, you guys! Today, we're going to finally watch these two lovebirds get married. It's only been, oh, eight years in the making. I know I wasn't so supportive of Kurt in the beginning—I mean, who knew that when I was tossing him into dumpster, I'd one day be officiating his wedding?" That earned a couple of uncomfortable laughs. "But then I found out what a cool dude Kurt is, and when he and Blaine got together, I captained that ship—_USS Klaine_." The laughs were definitely more boisterous now. "Technically, you can all thank me for being here today. If I hadn't told Kurt to go spy on the Warblers—"

"_It was you!_" Wes hissed, pointing a mockingly accusatory finger at Puck.

"Aw, hush prep school. If I hadn't told Kurt to go spy on the Warblers, he would have never met this dapper hobbit, and we would all be living our lives without one of the most epic romances in history.

"But enough sappiness! Let's get on with this. So, you all know why we're gathered here, so are there any objections?" Puck glared around the hall. Blaine and Kurt exchanged a look. They knew that there were plenty of objections to their marriage—but none were on that staircase. "That's right, there better not be any objections. Okay. The vows, I believe? Kurt said he wanted to go first, so the stage is yours, bro."

Kurt shot Puck a look that clearly read _this is my wedding can you please stop being so informal_ before looking at his fiancé—_not for long_—with nothing but love. "Blaine Everett Anderson. I spent _weeks_ writing these vows. The reason it took me so long was because I kept starting over, because nothing was coming out right. I don't know what to say to you, what to vow to you. I vow to be faithful, that's for sure. I vow to let you win arguments every once in a while. I vow to only dictate what you wear when we're going to really important events. I vow to hold you every time you watch _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_—both parts—and you sob uncontrollably in that ridiculously adorable way of yours. I vow to never mess with your careful book organization system, even though I'm absolutely _dying_to just put them in alphabetical order instead of using the Dewey Decimal System." Blaine let out a breathy laugh, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I vow to make you smile just like that as often as I can. I vow to cook you my famous crepes at least once a week. I vow to never try to curb your coffee habits. I vow to forcibly drag you from the pet store every time you insist on coming home with one of the puppies, no matter how cute or helpless it is. I vow to start a family with you when we're both ready. I vow to love you until my last breath leaves my body. I vow to you be yours, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part." Even though everyone had laughed several times during Kurt's vows, by the end, nearly all the women were crying, and several men had to rub their eyes a few times.

Gripping Kurt's hands in his own, Blaine chuckled softly. "Damn, Kurt, I wish you hadn't gone first. I'm not sure how I can follow that." The congregation tittered appreciatively. "Okay, um...I think I'm going to throw my vows out the window and say...I vow to never play my guitar when you're sleeping. I vow to look past your unhealthy addiction to trashy reality shows. I vow to speak in Italian to you whenever you want, so long as you speak in French to me in return. I vow to let you take as long as you want in the bathroom. I vow to only to sneak in the shower with you when we both have time for such shenanigans." Kurt's face flushed red and his eyes blew wide. "I vow to make you blush like that as often as I can. I vow to listen to you rant whenever something doesn't go exactly right at the design shop. I vow to give you advice whenever you need it. I vow to always take your side, even if you're not completely right. I vow to always get misty-eyed every time I hear 'Blackbird.' I vow to never, ever intentionally hurt you. I vow to protect you to the best of my abilities from all the hate in this world. I vow to love you to infinity and beyond. I vow to you be yours, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part." This time, every single man and woman was undoubtedly crying at the passion of Blaine's words. The two lovers did not notice, however, for they were far too busy trying to decipher the meaning of life from the other's eyes.

Puck cleared his throat. "I think it's about time for the rings." The best men removed the other's brother's claddagh ring from their pockets. Cooper handed Kurt's ring to Blaine, and Finn handed Blaine's to Kurt. "These rings symbolize loyalty, friendship, and, above all, love. For the past few months, the grooms have been wearing them on their left hands, with the hearts pointing away from their bodies. This is the placement of engagement. But today, before you all, they will, for the first time, wear their rings on their left hands, with the hearts pointing towards their bodies. This means that their hearts belong to each other, that no one else will ever have them, and that they will forever be one. Kurt, you can go first."

Sniffling and blinking back tears, Kurt shakily slid the ring onto Blaine's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand tightly, and then lifted it to copy Kurt's actions. "With this ring, I thee wed."

The two looked expectantly at Puck, who laughed. "Alright, alright, simmer down. By the power invested in me by the state of New York—even though they're getting married in Ohio and I haven't quite figured that one out yet—I now pronounce you husbands. Go on, mack on each other."

Rolling his eyes at his friend's antics, Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's neck and locked their lips together in a searing kiss. The room exploded in cheers around them, but all they noticed were Blaine's arms snaking around Kurt's waist, pulling them tighter together, and the cool press of metal into their left third fingers. After catcalls and a desperate need for air, the husbands—_husbands_—broke apart with a laugh. Their hands flew to each other's faces, foreheads pressed together.

"I love you, husband," Blaine whispered, eyelashes wet.

Kurt smiled back. "I love you, husband."

* * *

><p>Okay, so on a scale of one to Sue Sylvester after losing Nationals, how pissed are you at me? It's been five months and twenty-five days since I updated. I should have waited and made it a straight six months. As an apology, I give you a long motherfucking chapter. In my defense, I have to say that I wrote a little less than half of this a few months ago, but then had to go back and rewrite chunks of it to include Cooper. DAMN YOU RIB!<p>

No, I know, I shouldn't be pointing fingers at RIB. This is my fault. I prostrate myself at your feet, dear beloved readers!

More good (-ish) news: because this chapter got so long, I'm splitting it into two parts. The next chapter will not be the honeymoon, but the reception. There will be lots of fluffiness, laughs, and, in true Glee spirit, songs.

Some of you might have recognized our boys' vows. That's because I copied and pasted them from chapter five of _Klaine Week 2012_. I was going to write original ones, I swear I was, but it's ten-thirty right now and I'm fucking tired even though I've barely been awake twelve hours (TGISB) and I just wanted to post this. I only proofread this once, but it's ten pages, so I'm sure I missed some stuff.

Because I felt like I didn't explain it well in the story, here's what everyone's wearing (if you care, which, if I were you, I wouldn't):

**Kurt:**

black tuxedo  
>white dress shirt<br>black dress shoes  
>canary yellow dress socks<br>canary yellow bowtie  
>canary yellow boutonnière<br>canary yellow belt buckle  
>canary yellow cummerbund<p>

**Blaine:**

black tuxedo  
>white dress shirt<br>black dress shoes  
>bright pink dress socks<br>bright pink bowtie  
>bright pink boutonnière<br>bright pink belt buckle  
>bright pink cummerbund<p>

**Finn and Burt:**

black tuxedo  
>white dress shirt<br>black dress shoes  
>canary yellow dress socks<br>canary yellow skinny tie  
>canary yellow pocket square<br>canary yellow belt buckle

**Cooper:**

black tuxedo  
>white dress shirt<br>black dress shoes  
>bright pink dress socks<br>bright pink skinny tie  
>bright pink pocket square<br>bright pink belt buckle

**New Directions Women:**

canary yellow knee-length dresses (style similar to Rachel's junior prom dress)  
>bright pink rose (in their hair)<br>bright pink bangles (one per arm)  
>bright pink heels<p>

**New Directions Men and Warblers:**

black tuxedo  
>white dress shirt<br>black dress shoes  
>canary yellow dress socks<br>canary yellow skinny tie  
>bright pink pocket square<br>bright pink belt buckle

**Carole:**

bright pink knee-length dress (style similar to Rachel's junior prom dress)  
>bright pink rose (in her hair)<br>bright pink bangles (one per arm)  
>bright pink heels<p>

If you're wondering why Carole is dressed in pink instead of yellow like the girls, it's because she's representing Blaine's side, since Blaine's parents wouldn't come. (Cue sadface.) If anyone would like to draw up something involving this wedding (which I spent a ridiculously long time planning, like, you guys have no idea, I won't spend this long on my own imaginary wedding), then feel free to do so. I've never had fanart, and I really want a visual representation of what's going on in my brain.

Side note: if you didn't pick up on the fact that they got married at Dalton, please leave now.

Okay, so, I think the A/N was actually longer than the chapter, which is seriously saying something. I'm going to sign off now, because the room is actually starting to spin and I think I need to lie down.

Sorry again for being ridonculously late, and I love you!


	3. The Honeymoon

**A/N: This chapter contains explicit sexual content between two males. If that's not your thing, feel free to not read this chapter. This will be the only chapter in this series with explicit sexual content of any kind. (I'm 95% sure that's true.) This story will remain rated T, despite this chapter's M rating. For a full explanation of why, see the full A/N at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Honeymoon<strong>

The reception was simple, held in the Dalton ballroom, with their close friends and family in attendance. The theme, per Blaine's request, was Disney, and it worked beautifully. The New Directions and the Warblers took turns serenading the night with old classics, including the newlyweds' first dance, "You'll Be in My Heart," sung by Blaine's best man, Cooper. Finn and Mercedes, with both singing groups as back-up, announced dinner with a rousing rendition of "Be Our Guest" that had everyone in stitches. The Hudson-Hummels and Blaine danced in varying combinations to "Two Worlds," and Burt would swear to his grave that there were _not _tears in his eyes.

Photos were taken, kisses were shared, jokes were told, memories were swapped, tears were shed. Everyone danced with everyone, and few turned down a turn at the microphone. Blaine broke the Disney theme and gave a beautiful performance of "Teenage Dream" that did not fail to reduce Kurt to sobs. Kurt then retaliated with an especially heart-wrenching solo of "Blackbird," after which Blaine had to retreat to the bathroom for several minutes, only to return to give his new husband a teary-eyed kiss. The two sang a lovely duet of "A Whole New World" that brought a hush over the gathering.

Sometime during the evening, while Rachel sang "Someday My Prince Will Come," the newlyweds slow-danced in the center of the ballroom, the entire world falling away. Blaine's head fell against Kurt's chest, and Kurt's forehead rested against Blaine's gelled curls.

"We're married," Kurt whispered in awe.

Blaine's eyes flickered upward with a half-amused, half-disbelieving smile. "That we are. Took us long enough."

Kurt chuckled softly. "We're husbands."

"You keep talking like that and it's making me think you're starting to regret it," Blaine murmured wryly, earning himself a nudge from Kurt's arm around his waist.

"Shut up. You know I'd never regret this in a thousand years. I just can't believe it. It's been nearly eight years, and yet here we are. Just as in love as the day we met." He paused for a moment. "Well, _I'm _just as in love with you as the day I met you. Can't say the same for you, though..."

Blaine's head whipped back in surprise. "Oh no you don't mister."

"Kidding! Kidding." Kurt sighed. "I love you, Mr. Anderson-Hummel."

"I love you too, Mr. Anderson-Hummel." He pressed a heavy kiss to his slightly taller husband's lips, and a camera flash went off.

The reception dwindled to an end sometime around six, as the wedding took place early in the day. The grooms said their goodbyes, Blaine announcing with a wink that the two were off to an undisclosed honeymoon location, much to his new husband's disgruntlement. "I don't understand why you can't just_ tell _me..." was the last thing the guests heard as Blaine dragged the older man from the microphone with a murmured promise of, "You're going to love it."

The drive to the airport in Columbus took very little time, and they boarded a plane to Atlanta. Kurt figured out quickly that Atlanta was just a layover, but Blaine refused to tell him where the second flight would land them. Both slept soundly on the plane. When they awoke and exited, Blaine quickly affixed a blindfold around Kurt's eyes and stuck headphones in his ears, whispering that he'd take them off once they were in the air again. They made their flight, and within a few minutes, Kurt was allowed to see and hear. He wanted to be angry, but the exited puppy-dog eyes his husband unleashed broke his resolve quickly. They cuddled together in their first-class seats. This flight was longer than the first one, but in time, Blaine was cutting off Kurt's senses of sight and hearing once more. Kurt was herded off the plane to baggage claim, where Blaine secured their bags, and then to the car rental stand, where Blaine retrieved the keys to the convertible he'd rented for the week and a half they were there. Kurt complained the entire car trip to their final destination, but Blaine just squeezed his hand in apology.

Finally they arrived. Blaine quickly deposited their bags on the front porch and led Kurt slowly to the small cottage. He removed the earbuds first, and a distinct sound filled Kurt's ears. "Is that...an ocean?" A brilliant smile lit up Kurt's face. "Oh Blaine..." With tender fingers, Blaine silently removed the blindfold, and Kurt gasped. In front of him, glowing under the shimmering light of a nearly full moon, stretched the Pacific Ocean, nearly black in the night. The moon bleached the smooth sands white, and the waves roared softly against the rocks at the far end of the beach.

Kurt was speechless. He turned to his husband, jaw dropped. The shorter man in grinned. "Welcome to Malibu."

"But...how...I don't...you..._Blaine_."

Blaine gently led Kurt onto the steps of the front porch, which faced the ocean and not the street, and sat them both down. "You can thank Cooper for this. A favor from a friend of a friend or something like that. His acting career may not have gone anywhere, but he's got friends out here, so..." He dropped his head slightly. "I wanted to take you to France, somewhere really awesome and fancy, but the tickets were kind of steep, so..." His face turned red. "Hope this is okay."

"Blaine Anderson-Hummel." The man in question turned just in time to have his face grabbed and pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. "Shut up and make love to me."

"O...kay." Blaine stumbled up, pulling Kurt with him. He grabbed their luggage and whisked it quickly into the house, returning for Kurt moments later. He then took the older man by the hands and led him inside, savoring the change on Kurt's face as they stepped out of the moonlight and into the dark cottage. Kurt supposed the place was beautiful, but it was impossible to know for sure with the most beautiful man in his world right there, mere inches away.

Once inside, time slowed to an absolute stand-still as the rest of the world melted away. The husbands held each other, suddenly lost in a turbulent sea of emotion and desire. After an immeasurable time, Kurt took Blaine's hand and led him slowly through the house, never breaking eye contact; he smirked internally as he watched the other man's pupils blow wide and irises grow dark with lust. In mere moments that took hours to pass, the lovers found themselves in the bedroom, a small, cozy space with a king-sized bed, a wide armoire, and a door leading to a comfortable bathroom. The curtains framing the single window were drawn back, and the dazzling light of the silver moon reflected off of the dark waves, throwing the room and the men in it into a world of brilliant beauty.

They simply stood for a while in each other's arms, gazing deeply into the other's eyes. Blaine moved first, his softly calloused fingers nimbly undoing the latch of Kurt's cummerbund. He smiled and bit back a laugh when he pulled of the garment to reveal Kurt's white button-down—those damn _layers_—and slowly unfastened that, too.

As Blaine moved, Kurt's own hands lowered to Blaine's belt buckle, undoing the clasp and sliding the leather through the loops. Kurt then tugged the hem of Blaine's dress shirt from the waistband of his trousers, unlatching the cummerbund in the process and allowing it to fall to the floor. Then, with an indulgent smile, he unwound Blaine's pink bowtie.

After Blaine helped Kurt shrug off his white shirt—both of their tuxedo jackets had been shed on the plane and were resting with their bags—he paused to admire the effect that the silver moonlight had upon the older man's porcelain skin. He absolutely _glowed, _his muscles shining and his slender frame casting irresistible shadows upon the hardwood floor. Even after all those years, Blaine had no idea how he'd managed to fall in love with the most beautiful creature on the planet—no, that was easy to understand, for who _wouldn't _be completely entranced by Kurt's perfection? For Blaine, the real mystery lay in how this flawless being ever fell in love with him.

Blaine's fingertips moved from Kurt's bare shoulders to the buckle of his belt, brushing gently along the outline of every muscle and enjoying the way he elicited goose bumps from the otherwise smooth skin. Trembling slightly with anticipation and emotion, he slipped the belt from the loops. Before he could lower the zipper, however, he dropped his arms to allow Kurt to slip his shirt off his shoulders. In the process, Kurt shuffled much closer, their bare torsos now brushing against one another, Blaine's thin trail of chest hair tickling Kurt's skin. Pressing their foreheads together, they both looked down to finally unfasten each other's pants fully, stepping apart only to remove their legs, their shoes already abandoned at the door.

Now clad solely in boxers, Blaine took Kurt by the hand and sat beside him on the bed. Then, at last, he attached his lips to his husband's.

That kiss was not like any other the men had ever experienced. It was not like Kurt's first kiss, which was hard and scary and full of hatred. It was not like Blaine's first kiss, which was quick and light and full of confusion. It was not like their first kiss as a couple, which was unexpected and sloppy and full of questions. It was not like their first kiss as married men, which was public and short and full of smiles.

That kiss was long, so long that it did not break as they fell backward onto the sheets, or as Kurt moved to straddle Blaine's hips with his knees, or as both grew increasingly hard against each other. That kiss was passionate, so passionate that it did not cool as their lips trailed off of each other onto cheekbones and jaws and clavicles, or as they fumbled with the sheets, or as the weight of the entire day crashed over them in a tidal wave of emotion. That kiss was full of love, so full of love that it did not fade as they grew painfully out of breath, or as they laughed softly against each other at their own exhilaration, or as they carefully shed the final physical barrier between their bodies.

They'd seen each other naked before, of course. Each gave the other his virginity in high school, and since then they were anything but chaste. If they thought about it, they'd had every type of sex imaginable at least once. Despite that, nothing could compare to the feeling, the energy, that surged through their veins as they took in the silver-cast wonder of their bodies for the first time as husbands. They buzzed with a magic that made every inch of the other man a thousand times more stunning than ever before.

Blaine, now hovering over Kurt, removed his lips from the older man's navel to look him in the eyes. "Are you ready, Mr. Anderson-Hummel?" Those were the first words spoken since the couple entered the beach house. Blaine's voice was thick and deep and rough with lust and desire and need.

From below, Kurt nodded. Movements laced with regret, Blaine dragged himself off of the bed to extract the requisite materials from their luggage. "My smallest suitcase," Kurt called out softly. Blaine turned back to him, expression confused. "Go into my smallest suitcase and pull out the black box. Trust me." Blaine did as he was told. When he opened the black box, he snorted; inside were dozens of different types of lube and what had to be a hundred condoms of various flavors. Blaine looked up at Kurt, eyes dancing with laughter and questioning. "A gift from the girls. Bachelor party." Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine chose one of the more normal varieties of lube—_4-in-1 flavored lubricant? That has to be from Santana.—_and returned to the bed. By the time he realigned his body with Kurt's, the taller man's already darkened eyes had nearly blackened, all traces of amusement long gone. Blaine's lips reattached themselves to Kurt's skin. "I love you so." He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Kurt's neck. "Very." Kurt's chin. "Much." Kurt's nose. Then he flipped open the tube and squeezed a liberal amount of its contents onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the lube. "Tell me if it hurts too much," he whispered, making sure Kurt was listening by keeping eye contact as he spoke. They'd discussed their first time as husbands before—who would top, whether to use a condom, if they should try something kinky or stick to the normal stuff—but, as usual, Blaine was doubting himself. "Unless you wanted to top, which is totally fine, I can just—"

Kurt placed his hands on either side of Blaine's face and pulled him down for a kiss. "Baby," he murmured, "you talk too much."

Blaine grinned and nodded. Then he moved his lubed fingers to Kurt's entrance and, slowly, slid one knuckle in. Kurt hissed and Blaine froze. "Love?" The two had abstained from sex for an entire _month _before this night to ensure that it was as special as possible, so Kurt was extremely tight. Blaine's nervous pulse throbbed so loudly in his ear that he almost didn't hear Kurt's reassuring reply. Encouraged to continue, Blaine pushed the rest of his index finger into his husband, marveling at the tightness and closeness and warmth.

After a surprisingly brief adjustment period, Kurt felt _amazing._ The sensation of his husband, his lover, his soulmate inside of him, after such a long time, completely overwhelmed his world. He gasped at the utter pleasure that coursed through his veins. The sound caused Blaine to pause again, and Kurt groaned in frustration. Before Blaine could inquire into Kurt's wellbeing, the older man said, "Blaine, you can't keep stopping because I make a noise. If our previous encounters are anything to go by, I'll be making a _lot _of noise tonight. So please, don't stop. Ever. I love you, and it doesn't hurt, okay?"

Blaine nodded and smiled sheepishly. He knew he was being silly; he'd had sex with Kurt many times before, and only freaked out like this the very first one. It was the weight of having sex as _husbands _that caused Blaine so much anxiety, though most of it came from excitement. He took Kurt's words to heart and slowly removed his finger, only to press it back in with a second one. Kurt hissed again and clutched at the sheets. Blaine fought the urge to pause and carefully spread his fingers apart. Kurt thrashed beneath him, but Blaine could tell by the way he bit his lip and groaned from the back of his throat that it was out of pleasure, not pain.

Within a few minutes, Blaine added a third finger, and then he bent all three, searching for Kurt's prostate—and when he found it, the taller man let out a garbled scream. Blaine stroked the gland a few times, stimulating the knot of nerves and sending the man below him into an incoherent frenzy. Blaine always loved watching Kurt fall apart because of him; it made him feel worthy and loved.

When Blaine removed his fingers fully, Kurt whimpered both in loss and in anticipation. Blaine squeezed more lube from the bottle and warmed it in his hands. Then he spread it over his aching cock, shivering at the touch and the lingering coldness. Touching himself reminding him that Kurt was still laying there, so he reached over with one hand and stroked Kurt gently, taking great pleasure in the way Kurt's back arched off of the bed and into the touch. Blaine pulled his hand back, smiling at the way Kurt growled in disappointment. "Hold on, love," he whispered, leaning in close to Kurt's ear. "I don't want this to end too soon." He grazed his teeth down Kurt's earlobe as he moved away. Kurt merely bit his lip in ambivalent agreement; he didn't want the night to end _ever_, but he needed Blaine to touch him _now._

And touch him Blaine did. Settling a hand on either side of Kurt's head on the pillows, Blaine hovered over his husband carefully, lining up their bodies as Kurt slipped his legs around Blaine's back. Blaine dipped down to press his lips to Kurt's, which parted open almost instantaneously. Their tongues danced together for a moment, caressing each other lightly.

Then, not breaking the kiss, Blaine pushed into Kurt.

There were no words to describe that moment. Three fingers had not quite adequately prepared Kurt for all of Blaine, but even through the stinging, pure ecstasy swallowed Kurt whole, drowning him in the sole sensation of feeling. Blaine had not expected Kurt to be that tight still, and through the haze of pleasure that clouded his mind, he wrenched his eyes open to make sure that Kurt was alright.

He saw a single tear running down Kurt's pale cheek and stopped moving, buried to the hilt in his husband. He kissed the tear away, and then pressed their faces together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. "Hey," he breathed. "Are you okay? Are we good?"

Kurt's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at the concerned eyes staring back at him. He removed his hands from where they had tangled into Blaine's curly hair, the gel long gone by this hour, and placed them on Blaine's cheeks once more. "Yes," he whispered back. "We are _perfect_." He adored the fact that their new status as husbands seemed to have caused Blaine to revert to the same state of nervousness he was in when they made love the very first time.

Not shifting his face from Kurt's, Blaine began to move once more, pulling himself nearly all the way out of Kurt before pushing slowly back in. The two reveled in the smooth friction of the movement as they began to move together, their hips pistoning in sync. Blaine wrapped one hand around Kurt's leaking cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. Kurt moaned wildly, his own hands clawing at Blaine's rippling back and dancing curls. He attached his mouth to Blaine's neck at a spot just below his left ear and sucked on it, causing the younger man's breath to hitch and the steady rhythms of his hips and hand to falter. Kurt left a trail of dark marks from Blaine's ear to his clavicle, smiling in passionate glee as the other man nearly collapsed atop him in unbearable pleasure.

Blaine exacted his revenge, however, by evening out and quickening his movements inside Kurt. His hand left Kurt's rock hard cock, choosing instead to focus his energies on meeting that tiny bundle of nerves in Kurt as often has he could. Kurt's own hands flew up to the pillow in surrender, where Blaine interlaced their shaky fingers and pressed their conjoined fists into the fabric.

And so they progressed, Blaine rocking at an increasingly rough, albeit tender, pace in and out of Kurt, whose back arched off of the sheets and slammed back down. Kurt's lips were desperate to touch every inch of Blaine's thoroughly sweaty skin they could reach, even though his hands remained pinned beside his head. Both men could feel the heat in their bodies rising to the point where spontaneous combustion seemed inevitable. They each felt an incredible pressure behind their navels down their cocks, and they knew exactly what was coming next.

Blaine lifted one hand—Kurt's free one sliding immediately to the small of Kurt's back—and softly, so softly, stroked Kurt's throbbing arousal. Seeing stars, the older man cried out his lover's name as he exploded a fountain of white between the two.

The sight of Kurt losing himself so readily at his touch and the contraction of Kurt's muscles around his own trembling cock sent Blaine over the edge. He gasped Kurt's name as he emptied himself into his husband, collapsing on top of the sweaty, sticky, gorgeous man below him.

The husbands lay together for a while, panting and kissing and moaning and wondering how life could get better than this moment.

Finally, after several eternities, Blaine rolled off of Kurt and onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. He took one of Kurt's hands into his free one and brought the knuckles to his lips, kissing each joint individually. "You, my love, are perfect."

Kurt twisted his head to smile serenely up at Blaine. "I don't know...What you did to me just then? I'm fairly sure _you're _the perfect one. I don't think you can call anything we've done before this sex in comparison to that."

"I know..." Blaine buried his face into the crook of Kurt's neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I know we've done this before. I remember our first time like it was yesterday." He smiled into Kurt's skin. "But now...that feels like _ages_ ago. We actually became a part of each other just now, and...you completely spun my world around, and nothing looks the same anymore." Blaine lifted his head and wiggled his eyebrows in exaggerated seduction. "I wonder how everything will look when you have the chance to be in the position I was just in."

Kurt laughed lightly, trying to ignore the schoolboy blush that still crept up his check whenever Blaine made such comments. "I have no doubt that you do—and I'll be happy to oblige, before this trip is over. But right now, I'd really rather just _be _here with you."

To Kurt's disappointment, however, Blaine pulled away. "Before we get too snuggly, I suggest we clean up. I have a feeling this—" He gestured to the whiteness that glittered in the moonlight. "—will be uncomfortable to sleep in."

Kurt groaned. Blaine was right, of course, but he couldn't imagine moving for the world. Understanding this, Blaine stood, walked around to Kurt's side of the bed, and lifted the older man gently into his arms. He set his husband on the closed toilet lid and started the shower, pleased with how quickly it warmed. Then he pulled Kurt to his feet and the two stepped in together.

The steam cleared Kurt's post-orgasm haziness, and he really looked at the man before him. His thick, dark curls, already damp with sweat, clung to his face heavily, dripping down into his slowly lightening hazel eyes. Rivulets of water washed the semen from his tangled chest hair. Kurt took erotic pleasure in watching his effusion trail down Blaine's perfect body.

Suddenly looking wasn't enough. Kurt moved closer to Blaine, helping the younger man clean off, even though they'd left their toiletries in the other room. He worked his fingers through the curls, and Blaine's eyes drooped in contentment. Kurt's hands glided over the flawless features of Blaine's face, pausing for a moment at his lips, which parted with a sigh. They then brushed over Blaine's sternum, pectorals, abdomen, rinsing Blaine clean. Kurt attached his mouth to Blaine's, and the two stood there, feeling the blazing warmth of the water surrounding them and the slow movements of Kurt's hands on Blaine's chest and the tiny circles Blaine was rubbing into the small of Kurt's back.

After a long while, the water grew cold, and Kurt bent down to shut it off. He snaked a hand out from behind the glass door and slid two fluffy white towels from the bar on the wall. Handing one to Blaine, he began to dry off his husband, running the cloth over his arms, chest, and legs. He paid special attention to Blaine's hair; those damn curls got to him every single time.

Blaine chuckled softly as Kurt sped through his ministrations. "Beautiful, what's your hurry?" he breathed, pausing Kurt's hands on his stomach.

"I just really want to hold you." Smiling at Kurt's murmured reply, Blaine toweled Kurt off quickly but gently and, taking Kurt's towel from him, deposited the cloths on the floor. Then, keeping both of Kurt's hands in his own, he led the way back into the bedroom, where the two climbed into bed together. He pulled a musty sheet over their bodies. Arms wrapped around Kurt's shoulder, Blaine once more tucked his face into Kurt's neck. Kurt, in turn, locked his wrists behind Blaine's torso and rested his cheek against Blaine's mess of curls.

The husbands lay there for the rest of the night, bodies interwoven as one. Their hearts beat steadily as one. Their breaths came slow as one. Their thoughts melted into nothingness as one. Their lives proceeded into the future as one.

They slept.

* * *

><p>THIS BITCH WAS EIGHT GODDAMN PAGES SO I HOPE YOU LIKED IT.<p>

Sorry. I'm just really tired of typing.

So you kind of have my girl Alison (who would like me to inform you that she is "an attractive mother fucker") to thank for this, because she brought to my attention all of the WIPs I have just dangling out there unfinished, and I succumbed to the guilt trip. Good news is, I have every chapter of this and _Hot for Teacher _planned out, so it should be easier for me to write. This story will have a grand total of fifteen chapters unless someone suggests something really-super-duper-fucking-awesome for me to write.

You may have noticed that there is no second half to the wedding like I said there would/might be. That's because I had the entire reception planned but no motivation to write it. So you got a summary. Here's a list of songs and singers that I excluded:

-"Belle Notte" by Nick and the Warblers  
>-"So This is Love" by Quinn and Sam<br>-"Once Upon a Dream" by Tina, Mike, and the Warblers  
>-"If I Didn't Have You" by Wes, David, and Puck<p>

There might have been others if I had had the willpower to actually search for them. But I didn't. So.

If you're wondering why this story is still rated T even though this chapter was clearly M, here's why:

1) M-rated fics are not kept in the general search for Klaine on this site, and I'd like to keep this fic in the public eye as much as possible. It's the ego. Sorry.

2) Most of this fic will NOT be M-rated. I'll have a few chapters of explicit sex, but they'll be only a fraction.

3) I put a warning. So there.

4) FanFiction is less likely to find (and delete) this fic if it's hidden with the Ts instead of with the Ms.

So there. I hope that didn't offend anyone, and if it did...not a fuck is given on this day.

I'M TIRED SO I'M GOING TO READ OTHER PEOPLE'S SMUT NOW KTHXBAI.

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
><strong>FANFICTION TUMBLR: <strong>kqwriting [This Tumblr is devoted to fanfiction, both fics I write and fics I recommend/reblog. I'll also post any news updates on this and other fics if need be. Honestly, if you follow either one of my two blogs, this one's less fun but more fic-y, so...]


	4. The Attack

**The Attack**

"TOMORROW! TOMORROW! I LOVE YA, TOMORROW! YOU'RE ALWAYS A DAY AWAY!"

"Rachel, hush!"

The two friends giggled their way down the avenue arm-in-arm. They'd just left a community theatre rendition of _Annie_, the dark sky above signaling the end of their girls' night out. Kurt hoped to make it back to his and Blaine's two-bedroom apartment before his husband fell asleep, feeling energized by the martini he'd downed before leaving the restaurant for the theatre; if things went according to plan, they'd have the chance to repeat the previous night's amorous activities.

They reached the turn-off for Rachel's street, only a few blocks from Kurt and Blaine's, and they stopped on the corner. "You want me to walk you to your building?"

Rachel looked around. Every streetlight buzzed with life and few cars passed their way. "No, I'm good. It's only another two blocks down this way. You head on home to your man." She winked, and Kurt laughed.

"Alright. I'll call you tomorrow about that audition I found at the coffee place."

"You'd better!"

They kissed each other's cheeks and waved goodbye, Rachel turning left down a side street and Kurt continuing forward. Four blocks, a right turn, and two blocks more and he'd be home. He hummed "Tomorrow" under his breath as he strolled along, hands in his pockets. He smiled at Will, the owner of the coffee shop he and Blaine frequented, across the street as the older man began to close the cafe down. Will waved, grinning broadly.

Then, suddenly, the proprietor's face fell from greeting to horror. Confused, Kurt started to turn to see where Will was staring behind him, but before he could do so completely, four hands grabbed his jacket roughly and used it to shove him into the alley beside him. With a yelp, Kurt slammed into the wall, head cracking against the brick.

"Dumb faggot." One of Kurt's attackers laughed harshly, and immediately an icy shiver ran up Kurt's spin, freezing him in place. A fist landed in the middle of his stomach, and he doubled over, coughing and wheezing pain. This vulnerable position allowed one of the dark-clad men to drive his elbow into Kurt's back, sending the terrified man sprawling onto pavement. Two feet began crashing into his torso and back, and Kurt tried to curl in on himself for protection, but the world around him was quickly growing black. The last thing any of his senses registered was a shout of "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" and a gravelly voice hissing, "Get you later, bitch."

And then nothing.

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

"Is this Blaine Anderson-Hummel?"

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?"

"This is Martha Piper with New York Downtown Hospital. Are you the husband of one Kurt Anderson-Hummel?"

"..."

"Sir?"

"Y-Yes. Oh god. Oh god, is he okay?"

"Sir, your husband was admitted to Downtown approximately fifteen minutes ago. He was brought in by paramedics—"

"Is. He. Okay?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't discuss this over the phone. If you would like to come in—"

"No, of course I'm coming. I'll—I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Very well, sir. Just ask for him at the front desk."

"Yeah...yeah. Thanks."

"Good evening sir."

Blaine hung up the phone, letting the device fall to the floor with a tremendous crash he didn't hear. For a long moment, his body remained frozen. Half of his mind screamed at him to get his ass in gear and run to the hospital, which was mercifully only a handful of blocks north of the apartment, while the other half was stuck on a torturous skipped track that merely said _Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt._

And then he was moving, flying through the flat, grabbing his cell phone and keys, shoving his feet into mismatched shoes and snatching a jacket off of the hook by the door before tearing into the hallway, not even bothering to lock the door. Someone could come in and steal all of their belongings; none of that mattered while Kurt was laying in a hospital bed, alone and in god-only-knows what kind of condition. He bolted to the nearest subway stop, grateful that he didn't need to make a jump from one train to the other to reach the hospital. Due to the hour, the car Blaine had claimed was empty, so he paced back and forth, occasionally punching a handrail when time was moving too slowly. The skipped track in his mind refused to allow him a moment of peace as his worry increased exponentially by the passing second.

The doors slid open, and he was running, blowing past the handful of other subways passengers as he leapt up the stairs and sprinted down the street, turning a few times before skidding to a stop in front of New York Downtown Hospital. He nearly slammed into the automatic main doors as he waited for them to open. He practically slid into the front desk, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "K-Kurt...Anderson-...Hummel," he wheezed, not even caring that he was obviously scaring the daylights out of the receptionist.

"R-Right away, sir." Eyes wide, the brunette behind the counter typed furiously at her keyboard, quickly accessing the information she needed. "Relation?"

"Husband."

"He's on floor three, room three-twenty-nine. He's stabilized and sedated. His doctor can tell you more when you get there."

"Thank you." Without another glance at the woman, he raced for the elevators, sliding in one and jamming the button labeled _3._ Years passed before the elevator reached the third floor, but suddenly Blaine couldn't move again. What if Kurt looked a bloody mess? What if he was dying? What if he woke up without any memories? What if—

The doors nearly closed again before Blaine willed his feet to move. He slowly approached the nurses' station, catching the eye of a large woman in Tweety Bird scrubs. "I..." His voice died, and he coughed twice to clear it. "I'm Blaine Anderson-Hummel? My...my husband Kurt..." He trailed off, not trusting his voice to remain unbroken.

The nurse smiled understandingly. "You're Kurt's husband." He nodded weakly. "Come with me." She lifted a clipboard from the wall and led the way down a cold, white hall. Blaine's heart sank somewhere around his knees when he saw a uniformed police officer standing beside the entrance to a room, the same room the nurse—Jenna, by her nametag—halted before. "Your husband's in here, sir. This is Officer Cravis. He's going to fill you in while I fetch Doctor Stevens." The nurse smiled kindly once more before trotting back down the hall.

Blaine faced the officer, trembling from head to toe. The dark-skinned man gave him a wry smile. "Hello, sir, I'm Officer Cravis. You're Kurt's husband?" Blaine nodded again. "How about we go in and see him, and I can fill you in on what happened."

With lead-filled feet, Blaine shuffled through the open door on Cravis's left to see a single bed. Its occupant was hooked up to several machines, one of which emitted a steady beeping that sounded more like music than any instrument Blaine had ever played. Kurt was deathly pale against the white sheets, the small bit of skin Blaine could see covered in bruises. Kurt's normally coiffed hair was terribly askew, and dirt covered the man's fingernails. A stray though of _Kurt would go nuts if he knew how he looked right now _crossed his mind, and Blaine let out a shaky laugh that came out more a sob. He stumbled to the chair beside Kurt's bed, flinging himself into it and snatching his husband's hand in his own. Tears began to flow freely. "Kurt...Jesus...Kurt, what happened to you..."

Officer Cravis cleared his throat; Blaine had completely forgotten his presence. "Yes, we have a witness to what happened. Your husband was walking home, and he passed the Daily Grind, a coffee shop the two of you go to frequently?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, it's our regular place." Blaine's eyes never left Kurt's closed ones.

"Yes, well, a Mr. William Gould, the owner, witnessed Kurt being taken into an alley by two men, where he was accosted. He was punched several times, once in the stomach and once in the back, before collapsing to the ground and being kicked repeatedly." The words fell like blows on Blaine's ears. "Mr. Gould managed to scare the attackers off within thirty seconds, but the battery was enough to cause this damage."

Blaine finally looked up at the officer, who had moved to the opposite side of Kurt's bed. "What damage?"

"I think I can answer that." Both conscious men turned to the door, where a white-coat-clad man entered with a smile that made Blaine's blood boil. "Hello, Mr. Anderson-Hummel, I'm Dr. Stevens. Your husband sustained two bruised ribs and a mild concussion, in addition to a litany of cuts and bruises. Overall, I'd say he was extraordinarily lucky for suffering through an attack of this kind. He'll suffer no lasting damage, and he should be back to full health in four or five weeks. The ribs will take the longest to heal, but we can walk you through how to take care of those."

Blaine was incredibly put off by the doctor's flippant attitude—_my husband was just beaten by men mostly likely because he's married to a man, you heartless bastard_—but he decided not to press the issue with the man holding Kurt's life in his hands. "So...he's going to be okay."

"Absolutely fine. The sedatives we gave him to stave off the pain should wear off in an hour or two."

"And I'm going to wait here to take Kurt's statement once he wakes," Officer Cravis added with a gentle smile. Despite his world crashing down around him, Blaine appreciated the cop's kindness.

"I have other patients to attend to. If you need anything, sir, please press the help button there by your knee and one of the nurses will come help you." And then the doctor was gone.

"What an ass," the officer muttered, and Blaine let out a choked laugh. The older man pulled a chair to the opposite side of Kurt's bed and sat in it. "How long have you two been married?"

"A year and a half next month." Sometimes the time flew by so fast it blew Blaine's mind. To him, it felt as though only yesterday he was shakily sliding the claddagh ring onto Kurt's left third finger, heart pointing outward for the first time.

"Who proposed?"

Blaine chuckled again, sniffing back tears as he did so. "I did. At the end of my Broadway debut. Got the orchestra involved and everything." A stray tear leaked from the corner of his eye as he pressed Kurt's knuckles to his lips. "We're high school sweethearts, you know. Met my sophomore year, his junior. Took me forever to figure out that I was in love with him, but then I always was a little slow."

Officer Cravis smiled softly at the clearly enamored man, who reached up to stroke his husband's pale cheek. He continued to ask Blaine questions about his and Kurt's relationship, wanting to keep the worried and heartbroken man's mind off of the state of his lover.

Fortunately for Blaine, that plan was somewhat successful.

* * *

><p>His eyelids had to weigh a thousand pounds apiece, because lifting them was the hardest thing he'd ever done. They fluttered open, and he groaned at the invasion of bright light. Suddenly, a murderous throbbing in the back of his head caught his attention, and he hoped all of the pain meant he was alive, because if this was death, it sucked.<p>

"Kurt?"

A familiar, broken voice to his right gave him the strength to turn his head slightly and crack his eyes open again. A handsome man, face ashen and eyes red, swirled in his vision. A tight pressure on his hand kept his eyes from rolling backward.

"B-Blaine?"

* * *

><p>Blaine laughed, relief coursing through his body. "Oh my god...Kurt, baby, yes, it's me. Are you okay?" He turned to the police officer across from him, and the man smiled. He returned his gaze to his groggy husband. "Love? Kurt, talk to me."<p>

"Hurts."

Blaine's heart shattered at Kurt's weak voice. "I know it hurts, love. Do you remember what happened?"

Kurt blinked several times, and his eyes seemed to clear slightly. "I...I was attacked." Blaine gripped Kurt's hand more tightly. "Two men...big...dressed in black...punched me...kicked me...then...nothing." Tears filled his icy blue eyes as he gazed questioningly up at his husband. "Blaine...what happened to me? Why does everything hurt? I was so scared, Blaine, I was so scared, I—"

"Sh..." Blaine stood slightly and bent forward to press his lips to Kurt's. A short while ago, he worried he would never be able to do that again, so he cherished every second of that kiss. When he pulled back, he placed his free hand on Kurt's cheek and rested his forehead on the older man's. "Listen to me. You are okay. What you went through tonight was horrible, but we're going to catch the guys who did it, and we're going to make it through this. _Together. _Because I love you, and I'm never going to let you suffer alone."

Tears flowing freely, Kurt nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

A throat cleared behind Blaine's back, but neither man moved. "Mr. Anderson-Hummel, if you'd like, I could take your statement now, or I could wait until you're more ready."

Kurt sighed, and Blaine settled back into his chair, never letting go of Kurt's hand. "Honestly, I don't remember much. Two men, all in black. They hit me to the ground and kicked me until I blacked out. I do remember Will, though. I saw him just before I was shoved into the alley. Was he the one who...the one who called nine-one-one?" Officer Cravis nodded. "I always liked Will." Blaine told the officer the name of the theatre Kurt and Rachel had been walking from.

Officer Cravis snapped his notebook shut. "With this information and Mr. Gould's, we have enough to start an investigation. I want you to know that you have the entire force of the police department behind you. I'm going to nail these guys for you, okay? I'm not sure yet if this was a hate crime or a mugging gone wrong—"

"It was a hate crime." The other two men looked at Kurt in surprise. The bedridden man's lip trembled. "I...it's coming back to me in pieces, but...I remember, one man, he...he called me a d-dumb faggot." Kurt's eyes squeezed shut as more tears fell.

Blaine saw red. "I want these assholes behind bars."

"Kurt, do you think you could identify this man's voice if you heard it again?" Kurt nodded shakily. "Excellent. You've been a big help. Blaine has my card if you remember anything. Call me any time, with any information, okay? Nothing is insignificant." Kurt nodded again. "I'll be in touch with you as soon as I can."

"Goodbye, and thank you," Blaine said sincerely as the officer ducked out of the room.

Kurt carefully slid sideways on his bed and patted the open space. Blaine immediately crawled into it, grateful that Kurt's monitors were attached to the other arm, never releasing Kurt's hand. He pressed light kisses into Kurt's hair. The two lay there as the nurse came in checked Kurt's pupils and ribs, gave Blaine permission to stay, and bustled out, snuggling as close as physics would allow and falling asleep together, Kurt's head tucked under Blaine's chin.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Blaine helped Kurt out of a taxi and into their apartment building, grateful that they lived on only the first floor. He settled the bruised man on the couch, rushing into the kitchen to make a quick pot of chamomile tea before returning to sit on the sofa with Kurt's feet in his lap. They sipped their teas slowly, Kurt wincing every time a movement agitated his bruised rib and Blaine refusing to look anywhere but at his husband.<p>

Kurt blushed under the attention. "Blaine, I'm not dying, I promise."

"I could have lost you." The words came out as a whisper. "I got that call from the hospital and my whole world stopped. Kurt...I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." Blaine's face twisted as tears began to fall. "I was so scared...so scared I-I'd never see you laugh or smile or wink or look at me with those damn _eyes _of yours...I thought I'd never get to feel you, or smell you, or hear you, and nothing made sense. Because you make everything make sense, Kurt. You're like some Rosetta Stone for the universe. I just look at you and everything falls into place, but if you were to leave me...you can't ever scare me like that again, Kurt. You can't ever make me live without you."

Kurt nodded, his own eyes shining. He grabbed Blaine's hand and squeezed hard. "I'm okay, I swear it, baby. I'm so sorry you were scared—"

Blaine laughed breathily. "No, no, don't worry about me, really. I mean, what you went through..._I'm _sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry life...sucks." He set his teacup on the coffee table and then took Kurt's and did the same. He slid to the floor and knelt by Kurt's head, gathering both the older man's hands in his own. "I love you so much, Kurt Elizabeth Anderson-Hummel. I will spend every day of the rest of my life doing whatever I can to prove that to you." He leaned up and locked their lips together.

* * *

><p>The nightmares never fully faded, not really. Even into his old age, Kurt would still be awoken by visions of brutal blows and cruel men. Of course, by that point, such dreams were few and far between, but within the immediate months after the attack, they were nearly a constant. Night after night, Kurt would jerk awake, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, only to sob into Blaine's shoulder as the younger man comforted him into a fitful slumber.<p>

Blaine's heart broke all over again each time Kurt let out a garbled scream, eyes snapping open in terror. Both of them were lacking in sleep for several months, but Blaine honestly didn't mind staying awake to sing softly in his distraught husband's ear, because it kept his own nightmares at bay, nightmares of corpses and blood and coffins and loneliness.

Both of their work started to slack, but luckily, their coworkers and bosses didn't mind. The head of the small design house Kurt worked for allowed him to do more designing at home, so on the nights during which he could not sleep, he could at least do some good for himself and for the company. Blaine's schedule was far looser, as his show had closed about a month and a half prior to the attack, and he was now working on his solo album.

Things slowly started to return to normal about four months after the attack, with Kurt waking up few nights per week, and both of them sleeping through the night more often. That progress hit a stumbling block, however, when Officer Cravis phoned the apartment one afternoon.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Anderson-Hummel?"

"Yes, this is Blaine."

"Hello, Blaine, it's Officer Cravis."

"..."

"Blaine?"

"Sorry, I had to move into the spare bedroom. I don't want Kurt overhearing something that might upset him."

"I understand. I have both good news and bad news."

"Fantastic."

"The good news is, thanks to both Kurt's and Mr. Gould's information, one of the attackers was caught. He was a kid, barely over eighteen, and clearly out of his depth. He immediately flipped on his partner, whom we caught yesterday. They both lawyered up, and because they're cooperating...well, here comes the bad news: they're only going to spend six months in county jail, with mandatory anger management classes and community service upon release."

"Are you kidding me? Six months? It's been four since this happened and Kurt's still not over it. They deserve prison."

"Believe me, I know. I hope this is somewhat of a comfort: Kurt won't have to testify. They've both pleaded guilty in accordance with their plea bargain. Kurt never has to see them again."

"Yeah, that's something. So, basically...this whole thing is over?"

"They're processing through the system as we speak. It's over."

"Thanks, Cravis. You've been a really good friend throughout this whole ordeal."

"I'd say I was just doing my job, but...my cousin's gay, and if anything happened to him, there are no laws I wouldn't break to seek justice."

"I completely understand. Thanks again, man."

"Anytime."

Blaine hung up and stepped out of the bedroom. He slowly padded into the living room, where Kurt was sketching the finishing touches on a design. "Aaaaaaand...done!" He tossed the pad and pencil onto the coffee table. "Now that that's over with, I can finally take a nap."

"Wait." Kurt looked up at his husband in confusion. Blaine perched himself on the edge of the couch beside his husband and gathered his hands in his own. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Would that have anything to do with the mysterious phone call you just took?"

Blaine flushed and looked down momentarily. "You're way too perceptive for your own good. Yes, this is about the phone call. That was Officer Cravis." Kurt's breath hitched. "They caught them. They caught the bastards. They're going away. Six months. I know it's not a lot, but..."

Blaine was cut off by Kurt's arms around his neck. His own arms wrapped around the older man instinctively, rubbing up and down his back. "This is great news," Kurt whispered. He pulled back slightly. "I mean, I fully expect the nightmares to come back, and I was just starting to get over them, but at least I know they're not still on the street. This is good, Blaine. I promise."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's face and kissed it soundly, smiling when the gesture was returned enthusiastically. "I suggest a movie marathon to celebrate."

"The best of Barbra?"

"Just so long as you don't tell Rachel about it." The two cuddled together on the couch after Blaine slid in the first DVD.

Everything was not alright.

But it would be.

* * *

><p>And there you have it! Chapter four of <em>The Moments We Remember. <em>Please excuse my angst, but this was turning into WAY too happy of a fic. ANGST! This bitch was nine pages long, in case you were wondering. That's a lot of pages.

I have recently gotten addicted to The Miracle of Swindon Town, also known as John Green playing FIFA '11 and telling stories. OTP: John Green Squared

ALISON TELL YOUR FRIEND THAT I NAMED MR. GOULD AFTER HIM.

**Chloeskye**: I'm glad you liked last chapter! I have a weakness for honeymoon fics. There aren't nearly enough of them out there. Thanks for the review, sweetie!

Thanks for reading!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
><strong>FANFICTION TUMBLR: <strong>kqwriting


	5. The Baby

**The Baby**

Courage. Blaine liked to think the word was his catchphrase, his tenet to live by, but it was a far simpler concept when texted to a new friend or written in Sharpie on his lover's sweat-slickened back or whispered in his husband's ear after yet another nightmare. When it was _his _turn to show courage, to swallow his fear, to be a man, he found himself splashing cold water on his face in their tiny bathroom, ignoring the shaking of his own hands. He knew cognitively that his fear was irrational; it wasn't as though Kurt was going to divorce him for asking a simply question. But that knowledge didn't steady the quaver in his voice when he asked Kurt to sit down with him.

Kurt accepted Blaine's proffered cup of tea and settled onto the couch. He sipped the hot beverage slowly, waiting for the fidgety man to speak. Blaine's gelled hair was mussed by finger tracks and his brow shone slightly with perspiration. Blaine opened and shut his mouth a few times, clearly searching for words, and after a minute, Kurt took pity on his husband. "Blaine. Relax. Speak. I love you, and that is never going to change."

"I want a baby."

Kurt's eyes blew wide and his eyebrows shot up. Blaine slapped a hand over his face. "No, no, no!" he groaned. "Wait, that wasn't supposed to come out likethat." He took both his and Kurt's teacups and set them on the coffee table. He then gathered Kurt's hands in his own and squeezed them tightly, willing the shocked and slightly uncomfortable look on his husband's face to evaporate. "I was supposed to start out by saying how much I love you, and how happy you make me, and how complete I feel being married to you. And then I was supposed to say that I think we should be even more complete by starting a family. And _then_ I'd say I want a baby."

Kurt didn't respond to Blaine's rushed monologue right away. He held onto Blaine's hands and searched the younger man's shining hazel eyes for something that sent a ripple of fearful doubt up Blaine's spine. He had fully prepared himself for the possibility of Kurt saying no, at which point Blaine would of course back off and agree; if they both weren't ready, then they could not have a child. But Blaine was praying to every god neither of them believed in that Kurt would have an open mind. Kurt had expressed rather vehement objections to having children before they got married, and the subject hadn't been broached since. Blaine didn't know what Kurt's specific reservations about children were.

Kurt finally looked away from Blaine's eyes, biting his lip. "Blaine…"

Blaine leaned forward. "Look, I know you don't like kids—"

"I never said that," Kurt interrupted, his head twisting back to face Blaine. "I…don't dislike kids. It's just…"

Blaine slid forward on the couch so their knees touched. "Hey. What is it?"

"I'm going to be a terrible father," Kurt whispered.

In retrospect, throwing his head back and laughing was probably not Blaine's wisest decision. Kurt's face darkened and he leapt from the couch, stalking to the window. "Kurt, wait," Blaine pleaded, quickly following. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing because that's a funny concern, but because it's totally unwarranted. You're going to be the best father."

"I'm a cold person!" Kurt snapped, whipping around. Blaine shrank back in apology. "They called me Ice Queen in high school for a reason, and it wasn't because of the slushies. I don't warm up to people quickly, and I have trouble connecting emotionally. I'm not as open and loving as you are, Blaine! What if—" He bit his lip again, fighting tears. "What if I can't love my own child?" The tears spilled over, and Kurt fell into Blaine's open arms, which automatically pulled him close and guided him to the couch. Blaine rocked his husband back and forth as all of his fear, his doubts, his insecurities, his pain poured out over Blaine's cardigan.

Eventually, the sobs faded into sniffles, which dissolved into hiccups, and Kurt pulled back. Blaine placed his hands on either side of Kurt's face and spoke slowly. "Kurt. Elizabeth. Hummel. You listen to me. You are the most passionate, caring, _emotional, loving _person I have ever met. When someone has been deemed lucky enough to have your love, you move heaven and earth to protect them. You have a tender, all-encompassing, unconditional love that so few people possess. There is no chance in hell that you won't love our child."

"I'm scared."

Kurt's tiny voice broke Blaine's heart. "You think I'm not? You think I'm not petrified? Kurt, if we do this, we will have another _person_ in our house, one hundred percent dependent on us. We'll probably never have sex _again_." That earned Blaine a smile. "We'll have to explain to this kid why all his or her friends have a mommy and a daddy but he or she has two daddies. I'll have a second person I'll protect with my life. That's terrifying. You're not alone in your fear, and you won't be alone in raising our child, and _I _won't be alone in loving him or her."

Kurt flung his arms around Blaine's neck. "Okay."

Blaine thought his grin would split his face in two. "Really? You sure?"

"I'm sure." Kurt leaned back, gripping Blaine's biceps. "I want you to be the biological father."

Blaine's eyebrows shot upward as shock colored his face. "I—don't you—what about adoption?"

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe if we have a second child."

"Sec—second child?" Blaine spluttered. "Not five minutes ago you were dead set against having one, and now you're planning _two_?"

"Relax," Kurt laughed, "I was speaking hypothetically. I just think that our first child should be related to one of us. Not that we'd love an adopted child less, but…I don't know. I can't get over the idea of holding a miniature you—well, an even _more_ miniature you—" Blaine shoved his shoulder. "—and singing her to sleep."

It couldn't be possible to fall even further in love with him after all those years. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Her name was Aly, and she was gorgeous. She was the third potential surrogate presented to the Anderson-Hummels by their agent at the Manhattan branch of Expanding Families, and they were immediately taken with her. It was astonishing how closely she resembled Kurt; her skin glowed a soft porcelain, her thick chestnut locks cascaded past her shoulders, her eyes shone an iridescent blue, her legs travelled for miles.<p>

The twenty-one-year-old's wit kept them in stiches. The fact that she had just graduated from Steinhardt Department of Music seemed too good to be true. She was funny, she was smart, she was beautiful, and she was theirs.

"What would prompt a successful college student like yourself to carry a child for strangers?" Blaine asked, settling back on the couch in a posh Expanding Families office. "Gay strangers, no less."

Aly smiled. "First of all, your sexualities do _not_ matter to me. Hell, I'm in the music business; I can't avoid gay people if I tried." Her laugh was melodious. "I need the money so I can move to LA. I love New York, but…my chances of being signed onto a label out there are higher. We can't all be Broadway superstars." She winked.

"I like her," Kurt told his husband after the meeting ended half an hour later.

"I don't know…"

Kurt frowned. "What is it?"

"Don't you think she's a little…_too _perfect?"

"You are such a cynic!"

"This coming from the man who still believes that Sabrina being kicked off _Dancing With the Stars _was a Gamemaker-esque conspiracy."

"It's a reasonable theory!"

Blaine leaned back into the sofa and sighed. "I guess I'm being paranoid. I think it's the fact that I'm going to be impregnating this girl that's freaking me out."

"Mm, that's the fun part." Kurt's fingers slowly crawled up Blaine's thigh. "You go into a little room, just you and a cup and your thoughts of…oh, I don't know, a handsome small-time fashion designer with great legs and a talented mouth?"

"Ugh, if only such a person existed." Blaine ducked as Kurt tossed a throw pillow at him.

* * *

><p>The process took forever—five sperm donations (which got more fun after Kurt decided to help) and over a year of waiting. Wishing. Crying. The Anderson-Hummels swore to themselves each time Aly was inseminated that they wouldn't get their hopes up, but every time Aly called their apartment with a negative pregnancy test, Kurt held his sobbing husband for hours, fighting tears of his own.<p>

One afternoon in mid-September, Kurt was reclining on the couch, sketch pad propped against the easel of his knees. The phone rang beside him, and he picked it up without taking his eyes off of his shading. "Kurt Anderson-Hummel."

"KURT!"

The sketch pad and pencil fell to the floor. "Aly? What's wrong?"

"GET TO THE CLINIC!"

Then she hung up.

Kurt flew through the apartment, throwing on shoes and a jacket before running out the door, phone pressed to his ear. He choked through an explanation to his husband before agreeing to meet at the Expanding Families Fertility Clinic. After the longest cab ride of his life, Kurt darted into the chic building. He gave his name to the receptionist and was directed toward the second-floor examination room in which they usually had appointments. When he got there, Aly was lying on the examination chair, dressed in a hospital gown. Beside her sat Dr. Mark Jones, the good-looking fertilization specialist assigned to the family.

"What's wrong?" Kurt demanded, confused by Aly's poorly hidden grin.

"We should wait for your husband, Mr. Anderson-Hummel," Dr. Jones insisted. "Have a seat."

Kurt threw himself into the chair beside the door just as Blaine burst through it, panting, "I'm here! I'm here. What happened?" He spotted Kurt and sat beside him, hands linking automatically.

Dr. Jones looked at Aly. "You want to tell them?"

"I'M PREGNANT!" the now-twenty-two-year-old yelled, clapping in excitement.

Both men sat frozen for a long moment. Then with a delighted squeal, Kurt leapt from his chair and wrapped his arms around Aly, lifting her bodily from her seat and spinning her in an elated circle. The two laughed brightly and made fairly inhuman noises.

Dr. Jones noticed Blaine's silence. "Mr. Anderson-Hummel?"

Kurt turned back to his husband to find the younger man's jaw dropped and eyes wide. "Blaine?" he asked cautiously.

Blaine looked up, eyes glistening. "We're gonna be daddies, Kurt."

Laughing again, Kurt pulled Blaine from the chair and kissed him soundly, earning a playful catcall from their surrogate. "We're gonna be daddies."

* * *

><p>Suddenly, everything was real. The husbands quickly found a two-story townhouse with three bedrooms and insisted Aly move in with them. The three spent the first trimester transferring the men's belongings from the old apartment. After that, Kurt went to work on the nursery, choosing gender-neutral pale yellow walls and lush purple carpeting. In elegant, swirling, sage green script, Kurt painted a line from his favorite lullaby above the large white crib: <em>Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die; that's how you and I will be.<em>

Kurt may also have gone a little overboard with the baby clothes shopping.

"We don't even know the sex yet!"

"Fashion has no gender, Blaine!"

"Look, I don't mean to be sexist or anything, but you are not putting my son in a white-laced dress."

Aly settled in flawlessly. She insisted on helping out around the house and happened to be an excellent cook. Blaine loved to use her stunningly versatile alto to write harmonies for his music. She always went out with friends at least once a week to give the fathers-to-be some "alone time," considering they'd lose the entire concept after the birth. Despite her insistence that both men keep working, at least one of them (but usually both) attended every single doctor's appointment.

The husbands decided to wait to find out the baby's sex, stating that it was irrelevant and up to the child to figure out its own gender. Aly, on the other hand, was curious as hell, and asked Dr. Jones to tell her. Kurt threatened her with withholding peanut-butter-covered pickles if she spilled the beans.

* * *

><p>Thirty-eight weeks into the pregnancy, the entire Anderson-Hummel household buzzed with energy. Kurt had gone crazy with supply-buying, and the three were drowning in diapers and baby powder. Blaine cleaned the townhouse from top to bottom, stopping only when the overwhelming aroma of Lysol and bleach made Aly nauseous. The two refused to let Aly stay on her feet for any significant amount of time, and the woman joked that she'd refuse to let the baby come out if they kept pampering her like that.<p>

One such night, Aly was stretched out on the couch, feet being massaged by Kurt as the two watched reruns of _America's Next Top Model_. Blaine has sequestered himself in the music room. The evening was quiet and sleepy.

Until Aly let out a pained groan and clutched at her head. Kurt immediately paused the television and reached for her. "Al? What's wrong?"

"My…my head," she whispered. "Everything is dizzy." She gasped painfully.

"BLAINE!" Kurt rushed to support Aly so she didn't fall off the couch as she began to writhe.

The younger man charged into the living room. When he took in his husband's panicked eyes and the surrogate's excruciating pain, he snatched Kurt's cell phone off the coffee table. Thirty seconds later, an ambulance had been summoned.

"I'm…ugh," Aly moaned.

"Blaine, I think she's going to throw up."

Blaine stuck the trash bin under her chin just as she vomited.

Aly continued to shake and scream in agony as they waited for the ambulance. Kurt pressed cool washcloths to her forehead while Blaine paced in the foyer, cursing New York traffic. Eventually, though, the sirens came into earshot, and a pair of paramedics rushed into the house.

"What happened?"

"I don't know!" Kurt sobbed. "One minute she was fine, and the next, this!"

The paramedics whisked the pregnant woman out of the townhouse, informing the distraught husbands that they were taking Aly to Downtown Hospital. Kurt gathered the go bag they'd had packed for weeks, and then the two bolted for a cab. Because they left so soon after the vehicle carrying their surrogate did, the Anderson-Hummels made fairly good time following the flashing lights. They parked quickly and sprinted into the emergency room.

"Aly Hall," Blaine demanded, panting heavily. He heard an all-too-familiar shriek of pain from down the hall, and he started for the surrogate.

"Sir, wait!" the receptionist cried. "You can't go back there!"

"That woman is carrying our baby! Don't tell me—"

"Blaine." Kurt's whispered plea gave Blaine pause. He wrapped his arms around a shaking Kurt just as a scrub-clad doctor strode through the emergency wing doors. "Misters Anderson-Hummel?"

"Is Aly okay?" Kurt asked.

"Come with me."

The husbands followed the annoyingly enigmatic doctor to an operating room. Through the windows in the doors they could see a team of nurses bustling about. The doctor stopped them before they could enter. "Your surrogate is suffering from preeclampsia. This mean her blood pressure is dangerously high. Unfortunately, this also means we are going to have to deliver the baby early."

Blaine clutched his husband's hand. "Is that safe?"

"Two weeks is a little early, but not so much so that the child will have significantly increased health risks."

A particularly alarming shout erupted from the room behind the doctor, and Kurt begged, "Can we go see her?"

The doctor frowned apologetically. "This is going to be a difficult, dangerous, painful birth. Any extra people in there would increase risks greatly." Kurt swallowed thickly and nodded. "There is a private waiting room just down that hall. I'll come back to update you every chance I get." With a rueful smile, the doctor retreated into the delivery room.

Kurt carefully ushered his heartbroken husband the dozen or so yards to the indicated waiting room, arms wrapped around his shoulders and voice making soothing shushing sounds in his ear. When Blaine was settled in a chair, Kurt knelt in front of him, grabbing his hands and gripping them atop his thighs. "Hey. Hey, look at me, hey." Blaine blinked down at Kurt's trying-to-be-hopeful-just-ignore-my-tears expression. "Everything is going to be okay. The baby will be fine, Aly will be fine, and we'll all go home, okay?"

"You don't know that." The crack in Blaine's voice shattered Kurt's soul.

"Yes I do."

"How?"

"Because that baby? That baby is fifty percent Blaine Anderson, and Blaine Anderson is nothing if not a fighter."

Blaine crumbled into Kurt's waiting arms. The two held each other for an eternity on the floor of the hospital waiting room.

"I was wrong, you know."

Blaine lifted his head from Kurt's shoulder, eyes long since run dry. "About what?"

"This kid doesn't even exist yet, and I can't even comprehend how much I love it."

About fifteen minutes later, the still nameless doctor pushed open the door. "They're fine," he declared as the new fathers scrambled to their feet. "They're both perfectly fine."

Kurt collapsed against Blaine's side. The younger man's arms encompassed him. "Can we see them?"

The scrubbed man nodded brightly. "Follow me." The two left the room, but instead of heading back toward the delivery room, they retreated farther into the building, stopping a few doors down from the room they just left. The doctor opened it for them. The husbands exchanged nervous looks and shaky breaths before pushing inside.

The room held a single bed, and in it Aly lay sleeping, looking particularly worse for the wear. Beside her, in a plastic crib, lay a tiny bundle swaddled in white and green. A nurse lifted this bundle from the crib and approached the trembling fathers. "Misters Anderson-Hummel, meet your baby girl."

Blaine let out a hysterical giggle or sob or _something_ while Kurt stared on, eyes the size of saucers. "Can I…?" Blaine reached his arms out tentatively.

"Sure." The nurse gently passed Blaine the baby. "Support her head."

If Kurt wasn't currently in such a bone-deep state of awe, he would have laughed at the incredible look of concentration on Blaine's face. He held the little girl as if she were made of glass—which, according to them for the rest of their lives, she was.

Kurt stepped behind his husband and dropped his chin on his shoulder, arms snaking around his waist. He looked down at the alien in his husband's arms. The baby was tiny, so tiny she didn't seem real. Small tufts of jet black hair covered her pale head. Her button nose wrinkled as her eyes fluttered open and shut. Blaine let out a nearly inaudible gasp when he saw the girl's glasz eyes, impossible carbon copies of Kurt's. The infant squirmed in Blaine's arms for a moment, and then turned into her father's chest with a sigh.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"She is never allowed to date."

* * *

><p>Kurt reverently took the baby from his husband a few minutes later, settling into a large armchair beside Aly's bed, which Blaine perched upon. "Is she going to be okay?" Blaine asked, taking the surrogate's hand.<p>

The doctor smiled. "She's just tired. Her blood pressure is back to safe levels, though still a little high. She'll be just fine."

A nurse entered the room with a packet of paper. "Does this little beauty have a name?"

The new fathers exchanged a long look and a soft smile. "Elizabeth," Blaine murmured.

Kurt looked back down at his daughter. "Elizabeth Cooper Anderson-Hummel."

The nurse wrote the information on Elizabeth's birth certificate, and then placed the pile on a counter. "We'll get the rest of these signed once Aly wakes up." Then she, the doctor, and the nurse who handed Blaine Elizabeth left the room, leaving the new family and the sleeping surrogate behind.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, "why is she so beautiful?"

"I want to know how she looks so much like you. You're not even biologically related!"

"I'm talented like that." Elizabeth yawned and turned over in Kurt's arms. "Thank you."

Blaine's eyes lifted from his little girl to his husband. "What?"

"Thank you for talking me into this, and for giving me the most beautiful little girl in the whole world."

Blaine leaned down to press his lips to Elizabeth's forehead, and then kissed Kurt soundly. "Thank you for being the only man in the universe I would ever want to start a family with."

* * *

><p>Burt and Carole arrived before the day was out, looking haggard from their flight from Lima but ecstatic nonetheless. When they crept into the hospital room, Blaine was reclining in the armchair, just as asleep as the infant on his chest, and Kurt was stepping out of the bathroom. Motioning for them to be quiet, Kurt ushered his parents out of the room, softly closing the door behind them. He quickly led the way to the empty private waiting room, where he was immediately grabbed into an engulfing hug. "Congratulations, son!" Burt exclaimed.<p>

Kurt laughed somewhat hysterically. "Well, I had the easy job."

"Believe me, there's nothing easy about waiting for a baby."

Carole kissed his cheek before saying, "I see Blaine is tuckered out."

"Yeah." The new father and grandmother sat down while Burt made coffee. "The birth was difficult. There was a while there when we...we didn't..." Kurt choked up. "We didn't know if they were going to make it."

Carole wrapped her arms around her stepson, making shushing noises in his ear. She took the coffee Burt passed her and pressed it in Kurt's hands. "It's okay," she murmured. "They're okay."

Kurt sniffled. "I know. I know how lucky I am. My emotions are just really fried right now."

"Think we could see my adorable grandbaby now?" Burt asked gruffly.

Laughing, Kurt stood. "Yeah, come on. You're going to love her." He led the way back to Aly's hospital room, only to find the adults inside wide awake. "Hey," Kurt called softly, smiling at the sight of his surrogate holding his child. "Looks like you're feeling better."

Aly grinned tiredly. "How could I sleep with such preciousness in the room?"

"You did good, son," Burt said, clapping Blaine on the shoulder as he stared down at his granddaughter. Blaine looked like he was going to cry again.

Kurt lifted the baby from Aly's arms. "Dad, Carole...meet Elizabeth Cooper Anderson-Hummel." He passed the child to Burt, who took her with utter amazement.

"Elizabeth?" he breathed.

"Of course," Kurt replied. "I love you, Carole, so, so much, but I wanted my daughter to have a connection to the grandmother she'll never be able to meet." Carole nodded understandingly.

"And we picked my brother's name for her middle one because after reconnecting in high school, Coop's been the greatest big brother a man could ask for," Blaine explained. "He's on his way here; he was in the middle of filming when we called him, and didn't pick up until several hours later. But he'll be here."

"Welcome to the world, baby girl," Burt whispered down to the most beautiful baby in the universe.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth Aly Anderson-Hummel entered her home for the first time when she was three days old, her Uncle Cooper following her parents with a video camera. ("I look like hell, Cooper, put that thing away." "You're going to thank me for this when she's gone off to college." "Oh God, college!" "Nice going, Cooper. You're scaring your brother.") Her mother was staying in the hospital for a few more days, as per doctor's orders, but Aly was to live with the new family until her LA plans were finalized and executed.<p>

The fathers laid their baby to sleep in her crib, staring unabashedly for a good five minutes before Carole forced them out. They collapsed on their bed, allowing Carole to clean and Burt and Cooper to catch up on the baseball scores, and barely managing to climb out of the clothes they'd been wearing for two days. They curled around each other, Blaine's arms quickly encircling Kurt's waist and Kurt's head on Blaine's chest. Within seconds, their eyes were closed.

"Kurt?"

"Mhm."

"We have a family."

"We're daddies."

"Holy shit."

"Eloquent."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love our baby."

"I love our family."

They slept.

* * *

><p>So this was a long one. It was thirteen pages handwritten and just over ten typed. So I hope you enjoyed it. I wrote this instead of doing anything in school.<p>

Sorry this update took so long, but I've been super busy. Just know that I'm updating instead of writing scholarship essays, so be grateful.

It should be known that my personal belief is that any couple who cannot physically reproduce on their own should adopt, _not_ use in vitro or surrogates, simply because there are millions of children all over the world who don't have homes, and if you're going to spend a shit ton of money on a child, spend it on one who already exists. Also, overpopulation is a huge fucking problem, and the last thing we need is another human sucking up resources. Jussayin'.

That being said, I COULDN'T NOT GIVE MY BOYS A BABY THAT LOOKS LIKE THEM I MEAN COME ON.

You may see Aly again, you may not. I haven't decided. I'm looking at my plans now, and a) I put something in here that isn't supposed to happen until the next chapter, so thank god I checked; b) I put something in here that wasn't supposed to happen for another two chapters, but really it makes more sense in here, so I kept it, eliminating one future chapter; c) in two chapters, there will be some serious angst, so prepare yourselves; and d) there should be fourteen chapters total. But if I keep fucking myself up, that might change.

JFC since Friday I've read _Will Grayson, Will Grayson_ by John Green and David Levithan, _The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell _by I shouldn't have to tell you who because you're in the _Glee _fandom for fuck's sake, and _The Bermudez Triangle_ by Maureen Johnson. Holy. Shit. They were all so damn good. I read each of them during school (and aced all my tests, thank you very much), and I'm quickly earning myself the reputation of That Girl Who Reads While She Walks in the Hallway (which I do to a much higher degree of success than the people who just walk normally, it should be noted). Imma read _Feed _by MT Anderson next, and _Let It Snow_ by John Green, Maureen Johnson, and Lauren Myracle on Friday. AND THEN I'LL BE OUT OF NEW BOOKS OH GOD SOMEONE HOLD ME OR BETTER YET GIVE ME MONEY.

ANYWAYS, I gots to go. Love you all!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
><strong>FANFICTION TUMBLR: <strong>kqwriting  
><strong>FANFICTION BANK TUMBLR: <strong>klaineficneeds

**EDIT: **I owe KlaineGleek119 a huge debt of gratitude. When I sat down and planned this fic out _months _ago, I decided that Klaine's little girl's name was going to be Elizabeth Cooper Anderson-Hummel. And then I fucking _forgot._ I decided to name her Elizabeth Aly after her surrogate (who was named after Alison, obv.), WHICH I DIDN'T LIKE BECAUSE VOWELS. But then KG119 reminded me what a dumbass I am, so I edited it, and then added some bonus Cooper at the end! Okay, sorry for bothering you, go back to your regularly scheduled fangirling.

BUT JFC IF YOU HEARD ABOUT THE MOST RECENT 4X04 SPOILERS HMU 'KAY?!


End file.
